I enjoyed this more than I‘d thought I would (with low expectations) - there‘s great humour, wonderful observations by Ariadne Oliver about being an author & the joy of her and Poirot‘s company. The mystery is elusive & dissatisfying in that it stays so nebulous & hard to grasp throughout. This could be deliberate as memory (a theme) can be slippery too, but it feels vague. Elephants are mentioned far too often (especially for Poirot!).